Rituals Old
by Sunflowers In Moscow
Summary: It's All Hallows Eve, and Arthur cannot live on memories any longer. He has to try, he has to try and bring her back, for he is tired, and he is lonely without his dearest Elizabeth. But even magic cannot bring back the dead.


**_I don't own__ Hetalia_**

* * *

Memories were all he had, and so he had to try. He wanted, no _needed _more.

He would use the magic flowing in the earth this eve to bring her back. If only for a night.

He would give the world for a night.

* * *

She stood in front of the huge gilded mirror in nothing but her underwear, her auburn hair flowing unhindered down her back. She had ordered the maids to leave her, to allow her some time. Time.

Sometime she knew she no longer had. Within the hour, she would be queen, and it was truly terrifying.

There was no one she could honestly confide in but one, and she supposed she was allowed to feel slightly desolate. She would become the most powerful person in the country, and one of the most powerful in the world. She would be the monarch, and her country would be relying on her.

She would have the weight of the world on her shoulders, and the responsibility was hanging over her head ominously, like it was waiting for a moment to fall and suffocate her.

She blinked in an attempt to clear her blurry eyes, and her hand rose shakily to brush over the heavy jewels around her neck. The shining gold stood out against her milky skin, the white gems glistening, and she wondered if the crown would feel just as weighty.

"You look beautiful."

She gasped, and spun around, attempting to find something to cover herself with. Her calves and arms were showing; it was positively indecent. She saw an outdoor cloak that had been thrown haphazardly over a chair and wrapped it around herself tightly.

"That may be, my lord, but it is not beauty I fixate on at the current time."

He ignored her flustered countenance, and walked slowly forward. She took a few steps back before her back was pressed against the mirror, and he stopped around two hand breadths from her. She looked up, and was immediately trapped by such an unnatural yet, _natural _shade of green - reminiscent of the stones in her favourite earrings.

"Then, my queen, what concerns you so?" His breath ran along her face, and she tried to suppress the faint flush of red that sprung up on her cheeks.

"Please refrain from calling me such, for I am not queen yet."

He bowed his head, conceding to her wish. "Forgive me, my princess, but the question remains."

She inhaled as deep and she could, and let all the air out slowly through her nose. Then, she spun to face the looking glass, her arms still clutching the thick protective fabric; she sighed when he walked closer to push against her back, and she had to stop herself from leaning against his welcoming form.

She stared into the eyes of her reflection, fully aware of his intense gaze over her shoulder. Whereas she had been wary when he came in, such petty feelings had vanished, leaving behind only her previous thoughts and the warmth at the presence of a very good friend. He could be trusted with everything she was; she could put her faith into this man, so unknown yet alluring. He was so ancient and he had lived so long, she couldn't help but feel like she needed to be near him. But she would not dwell on such things when there were so much more important things to contend with.

"What concerns me, you ask?" She tried to tease him as she always did, but the phrase came out wrong, the words wavering.

"Yes, what concerns you? You are my lady princess as well as my soon-to-be monarch and queen; but above all, you are my friend. Please, elaborate on your worries."

She looked up at his reflection in the mirror, and he nodded encouragingly. She blinked and seconds passed.

"Duty."

She needed to say nothing more, as he understood. He had stood by her since she was an infant, and knew from experience gained through years in her company exactly what she meant. And he knew how to console her. Not completely, but enough that she felt she could manage the coronation.

"Beth... when I called you beautiful, I was not referring to your admittedly exceptional physical stature."

She frowned in confusion, silently asking him to continue - not out of vanity, but a need to understand his words.

"I was referring to the woman I see inside you everyday, the woman I saw in you as a young girl of five who fell out of the carriage without a single whimper of pain. You are very stubborn and opinionated, something many men in our court resent, but something I welcome. You will lead this land into a time unknown, a time good or bad, I don't know. Because I don't know how you will rule, whether you will be a brilliant leader or a terrible one; that is entirely up to you. And I will support you as long as what you do is the best for our people."

He paused for a moment, before turning her around gently and cupping her face in his hands. They looked into each other's eyes, and England tried to project belief and trust into her frightened gaze.

"But I know one thing. Whatever you choose to do, however you choose to do it-"

A wide, determined smile broke out on his face and she followed suit unconsciously, mesmerising by both his influence and the confidence he seemed to have in her.

"You will be great."

And in all the future years up until her... _death_, Elizabeth never dared to prove him wrong.

* * *

The whiskey burned as he tossed it back, trying to rid himself of the tempting and taunting images that haunted him every second of every day. That man in the mirror stared back with venom in his glazed green eyes, and as the glass shattered on the floor, a fist cracked the fearsome image and blood ran down the once flawless reflection.

Magic had betrayed him, yet again. Even All Hallows Eve couldn't grant his wish, when the veil was the thinnest, and he knew he wouldn't try again.

The ritual was performed, the results as unsatisfying as usual, and Arthur had started to wonder if Elizabeth just didn't want to see him.

The man he could see around his throbbing hand wasn't a pleasing sight. Dirty blond hair lanky and flat against his head, deep black circles lining his eyes and skin like a corpse. Eyes aged beyond their beholder's physical years, heavy and pessimistic with far too much wisdom to be bright and lively as they should. All of his pity, mercy and humility had been chipped away under the pressure of the many years and a lack of care. All that remained was someone living only by because he had no choice. He wasn't as handsome and confident man as he had been, the kind young lord who she had known. He wasn't the great power he used to be, he wasn't the man she had ruled and confided in. He was no longer anything he had once been.

That man was no longer her Arthur - just a bitter old nation disgusted by life and with no love left to give.

* * *

**Happy Samhain, bitches!**

**Bet you all thought that was happy - fooled you! For the last part, I recommend Sweet Nothing by Florence Welch. Brilliant song, and really fits the mood.**

**The starting bit is adapted from Unforgettable, and a few bits are changed.**

**Alas, what I do to dear Arthur. Sorry, love.**

**Check out my other Hallowe'en fic if you want something a tad more macabre. ;-)**

**Hope you all enjoy, and have a good night! Please remember to leave a review!**


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